ademoiselle de Pen-Hoel of the chevalier, as
soon as the cards were dealt.

"The poor little thing is like her master," replied the chevalier; "she
has some nervous trouble, she goes on three legs constantly. See, like
this."

In raising and crooking his arm to imitate the dog, the chevalier
exposed his hand to his cunning neighbor, who wanted to see if he had
Mistigris or the trump,--a first wile to which he succumbed.

"Oh!" said the baroness, "the end of Monsieur le cure's nose is turning
white; he has Mistigris."

The pleasure of having Mistigris was so great to the rector--as it was
to the other players--that the poor priest could not conceal it. In
all human faces there is a spot where the secret emotions of the heart
betray themselves; and these companions, accustomed for years to observe
each other, had ended by finding out that spot on the rector's face:
when he had Mistigris the tip of his nose grew pale.

"You had company to-day," said the chevalier to Mademoiselle de
Pen-Hoel.

"Yes, a cousin of my brother-in-law. He surprised me by announcing the
marriage of the Comtesse de Kergarouet, a Demoiselle de Fontaine."

"The daughter of 'Grand-Jacques,'" cried the chevalier, who had lived
with the admiral during his stay in Paris.

"The countess is his heir; she has married an old ambassador. My visitor
told me the strangest things about our neighbor, Mademoiselle des
Touches,--so strange that I can't believe them. If they were true,
Calyste would never be so constantly with her; he has too much good
sense not to perceive such monstrosities--"

"Monstrosities?" said the baron, waked up by the word.

The baroness and the rector exchanged looks. The cards were dealt;
Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel had Mistigris! Impossible to continue the
conversation! But she was glad to hide her joy under the excitement
caused by her last word.

"Your play, monsieur le baron," she said, with an air of importance.

"My nephew is not one of those youths who like monstrosities," remarked
Zephirine, taking out her knitting-needle and scratching her head.

"Mistigris!" cried Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel, making no reply to her
friend.

The rector, who appeared to be well-informed in the matter of Calyste
and Mademoiselle des Touches, did not enter the lists.

"What does she do that is so extraordinary, Mademoiselle des Touches?"
asked the baron.

"She smokes," replied Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel.

"That's very wholesome," said